I reflect on generational rifts in queer communities and my fears of someday becoming one of the "problematic" queer folks.
I reflect on some long-held existential fears of being abandoned by my friends as I grow older.
I talk about the "in-between spaces" between my neurodiversity and my romantic orientation and just how interconnected those aspects of my identity are
I use Coyote's concept of a convergent-divergent spectrum to describe some feelings about my identity I've been trying to piece together for a while.
Where I talk about QPRs, relationship anarchy, how I personally find QPRs less useful of a concept than I used to.
I used to use the split-attraction model to conceptualize my romantic and orientation. Here's why I don't anymore, why the SAM never really made sense for me in the first place, and where I think the SAM fails a lot of aro folks.
When I talk about my identity to someone outside one of my communities, I'm implicitly nominating myself as an ambassador to that community. What are my responsibilities when representing the communities I'm a part of? What about when some people in that community disagree with me?
I've noticed a pattern in a lot of the "supportive" messaging I recieve from neurotypical people as an autistic person. It's genuinely well-intentioned, but also deeply ableist. They think autism is an obstacle to be overcome, not who I am.
The worst damage amatonormativity inflicted on my life happened before I came to terms with my aro identity. Amatonormativity prescribed a future for me that always felt intangible, because it was never really what I wanted in the first place.
Sometimes explaining my identity to non-queer folks means giving definitions that aren't entirely accurate—little white lies that make coming out easier. And I sometimes wonder if these half-truths amount to a betrayal of the community.